A Second Chance
by stellarae
Summary: Emily Prentiss faces a tough decision that will save her life but only at the price of destroying her past. Meanwhile, Olivia Benson copes with the exit of a prominent figure in her life. She truly believes her world will never be the same as it was with Elliot, but, faced with time, reality, and a new partner, she must begin to accept what is and not what could've been.
1. Chapter 1

It happened exactly like in the movies, the cliche way that no one really believes until they experience it first hand.

The first image she saw was herself as a child, maybe six, seven years old. Unlike the other kids in her grade, she lacked the privilege of a having a lot of friends. Instead, she excelled in academics. She had big dreams of going to Yale one day. Everyone knew her mother as a highly recognized ambassador, and many expected Emily to follow in her footsteps. She did go to Yale but despite popular belief, it had nothing to do with her mother.

"Emily Prentiss?" she heard echo through the air around her as the crowd cheered. It was graduation day at Yale. She took one last look at the crown before exiting the chaotic life she knew and beginning something entirely new. One step at a time, she repeated to herself as she walked up the broad concrete steps to her new job. She walked down the hallway, still repeating those words to herself. This was the right place. They wanted her to be here. They wanted her skill-set. _They wanted her_.

"Emily?" she heard someone call out, faintly, maybe it was her imagination. "Come on, squeeze my hand if you can hear me." Emily was confused. Were they talking to her? Or was there another Emily she just hadn't been introduced to yet. For some reason she felt compelled to oblige and gave both fists a clench. She heard it again, maybe from the conference room to her right? "Emily, stay with me, baby." What the hell. She squeezed her fists again, this time harder. Suddenly she felt dizzy, everything around her began to spin, and the room went dark as she felt an excruciating pain in her stomach and the unquestionable motion of falling. Or was she flying?


	2. Chapter 2

Emily woke with a start. The air was ice cold as if she were in a refrigerator. She looked around in terror, her eyes were the only part of her that moved. One second was pure panic, was she paralyzed? Was she dead? The next second, it hit her. The overwhelming ache. It wasn't exactly painful, but in no way did it feel pleasant. She opened her mouth but only a faint, scratchy noise escaped. She used all her remaining strength to muster up the quietest "help". "Help," she managed to say a little louder. She still couldn't move her arms and legs but she could sure as hell feel them. Her eyes reached as far to the left as they could, far enough to see a dull light emerging from what seemed to be an open door.

A nurse stood in the doorway, filling out a chart from her previous patient. She was far too enveloped in her work to hear Emily's desperate cry for help. It was only when Emily managed to push her hand over far enough to knock the cup off her nightstand, that the nurse glanced in her direction. The nurse, or "Ava," as her nametag read, immediately set down her chart when she realized what the noise was. She hurried over to the side of Emily's hospital bed and looked down at her intently.

Emily was still disoriented. The last thing she could remember was someone calling her name, or was that a dream? She couldn't think straight. "Where am I?" she asked, already on the verge of a full blown panic attack.

"My name is Ava. You're at Bethesda Medical Center, there was an accident. You're okay now."

 _I'm okay now?_ Emily thought. She didn't feel okay and she most certainly didn't comprehend the situation. She had a weird sense that Ava wasn't fully letting on to her what happened. "What happened?" She asked.

"Like I said, you were in an accide—"

"No, I mean, what _really_ happened." Emily demanded.

"You came from Boston. I believe you were working a case with, uh, Ian? Ian Doyle? There were complications and you landed yourself in the ER. Quite a nasty injury, really. You took a table leg to the abdomen or something. Just about bled out on the table. Your heart stopped twice but they were able to revive you. As soon as you were in stable enough condition for transport, you were airlifted here, the leading, world class recovery center for severely injured ve…" Emily tuned the rest of her words out.

She know what Bethesda was, she just couldn't quite wrap her mind around why they would bring her there instead of taking her somewhere closer to her team. _Her team_. Where were they? They would surely be waiting for her to wake up, she knew them. But they weren't there.

"Where are they?" She asked Ava.

"Where are who?"

"Where is my team?"

"Oh. That's what I needed to tell you. Your team doesn't know you're here."

"What? What do you mean they don't know I'm here, of course they do. The hospital called them, right?"

"See, that's the thing. I don't know the details but I can page someone who does." Ava looked down at her pager and nonchalantly typed in some numbers. "Hello? Emily Prentiss is awake. Report to room 206, East wing, immediately."

The minutes couldn't have gone by more slowly. Emily, bedridden and hardly able to move stared up at the ugly white ceiling as Ava stood awkwardly near the door, tapping her foot. Finally, there was a tap on the doorframe as two tall men dressed in all black entered the room.

"Emily Prentiss. I'm glad to see you're awake. My name is Mike Hilton and this is my partner Tobias. We were sent here on behalf of the Bureau to talk to you about the unfortunate circumstances that just took place and still are, taking place, rather. If you have any questions feel free to ask them, we're only here to help."

Mike looked over at Tobias which prompted him to start speaking, "You were taken captive by Ian Doyle, you probably know that but I'm just going to start there as I don't know how much you remember. While you were being held, the two of you seemed to have gotten into a physical altercation, and, he stabbed you with a jagged, broken off table leg. One of your team members, Derek Morgan, found you in an abandoned warehouse. He immediately called for an ambulance but we were losing you quickly. As Ava most likely told you, you lost a copious amount of blood, it's a miracle you lived at all. Now, the tricky thing is...we need to keep you safe from Doyle. Ian has men out there that are still hunting you and my God, those men won't back down until you're dead. Which is why they've backed off now."

"Why would they back off now? I'm still alive, aren't I?" Emily questioned, bewildered.

"Yes, you're alive, you're here, you're breathing. Technically." Mike chimed in. "Emily Prentiss, however, never left that operating table. She died the second it was deemed that your only hope would be to stay dead."

"You're losing me, I'm not quite sure I know where you're going with this," Emily shot back.

"This is what I've been dreading telling you, but trust me when I say there was no other option. We leaked a story to the national media that you died at the hands of Ian Doyle, that way him and his posse wouldn't come looking for you. It was the only way. Unfortunately, your team knowing this would completely sabotage the operation. The only people who know are me, Tobias, a select few doctors, Aaron Hotchner, and Jennifer Jareau."

Emily's head spun. That had been enough information to boggle her for a lifetime, much less a few minutes. She couldn't get a word out of her mouth before the tears came. She felt odd. Almost guilty. She didn't feel bad for herself, she felt bad for the team. What would Derek think? She could imagine the look on poor Spencer's face as he was delivered the devastating news. She was his big sister. She felt awful. Why would they mourn her? She had completely betrayed them. It wasn't fair. She felt bad she was the cause of their grief. Why couldn't she have just died in that warehouse? It would've been better for them to know the truth. It's the least they deserved.

As soon as she could muster up the strength to wipe away her tears, she did. The first thing out of her mouth almost startled her, it seemed so vain and self-serving, something Emily Prentiss would never ask. But she wasn't Emily Prentiss anymore. "What is my name?" she managed as she choked back the lump in her throat.

"Abigail. Abigail Sutton. We'll have you working a temporary assignment at the NYPD for at least a year, but most likely longer."

This came as a shock to Emily. She'd never worked a job like that as she was part of the Bureau, not the police department. She didn't realize it was even possible. Apparently it was. "When do I start?" She asked.

"As soon as Ava clears and releases you. We have some papers and legal documents here for you to sign if you're ready."

It all went far too quickly. Emily wasn't even sure she agreed with what was happening. She wanted to go back to her team, tell them it was all a rouse. Who cared if Ian killed her? At least she'd have the chance to say a proper goodbye, to tell her closest friend what they truly meant to her instead of just leaving them in shock and bewilderment.

"Just sign the papers. The few years will be over before you know it, it's for the best," Tobias urged.

Emily reluctantly reached her stiff arm over, it was a struggle to even lift the pen to the paper but she managed. As soon as she finished her eighth signature, she dropped the pen. "Thanks, Ms. Sutton," Tobias said as he gathered up the documents and nudged Mike to follow him.

"At least call me Detective Sutton," Emily said as the two men walked out of the room and shut the door behind them, leaving Emily alone to process the mess which was her new life.


	3. Chapter 3

Emily didn't sleep at all that night. The constant cycle of life (and death) throughout the hospital never stopped, so the occasional yell, someone walking by, or even just the sound of her own tears kept her awake. It wasn't particularly the thought of unconsciousness that overwhelmed her, but the constant over-thinking that did. The future seemed daunting, terrifying, but it was the past she was most focused on. She couldn't stop imagining exactly what was happening at the moment in her old life. Did the team know yet? Who took Sergio? And most perplexing of it all, when was her funeral? If she was gonna have one, that is.

It was the sudden opening of the door that woke her. Well not really woke her, but violently broke her complex chain of thought. It was Ava. She walked over to Emily's bedside. "You're awake, I see."

"Yeah, it would appear so," Emily said with her old slightly sarcastic tone.

"Are you feeling better?" Ava asked.

"Well, considering I just, let's see, got impaled, was hospitalized for who knows how long, was told my old life no longer exists, and haven't slept in over 24 hours, I feel pretty great." Emily said with the hint of a smile to mask the agonizing pain she felt both physically and mentally.

"Good to hear," Ava replied, almost dryly. "Oh, and I don't think anyone told you this, but you were out for a solid month and a half."

"WHAT?" Emily almost yelled. "That long? You've got to be kidding me. What did I miss?"

"Don't worry, you didn't miss much. I just came in to tell you a physical therapist will be stopping by in approximately 3 hours to talk to you. Try to get some rest."

(2 Weeks Later)

It was finally time for Emily to be released. After a few weeks of intense physical therapy and counseling, she was finally ready to be moved to her new apartment in New York City.

She walked down the steps of Bethesda hospital. The sun was bright and she had to quickly shield her eyes. She walked to the curb and hailed the first taxi she saw. She signaled for the driver to open the trunk and loaded the suitcase the FBI had given her into it. That and her large handbag were her only possessions, she felt like she was forgetting something, but then again, she was forgetting her old life, and that would be enough to put anyone on edge. As she loaded her suitcase into the trunk, she thought about the new life she'd have to adapt to, the new people she'd have to meet, and the entirely new schedule she'd have to adjust to. She felt oddly positive about the whole thing considering how guilty she still felt about what she had done to her team.

When she stepped into the cab, she quickly told the driver to take her to the airport and then fished around in her purse for her phone. It had been reset and cleared of all her pre-existing data as a means of security, but it still had a few basic features that brought her comfort and made her feel less alone. She almost let out a gasp but covered it up with a cough when she opened Google and saw one of the news stories: _FBI Agent Slain During Hunt for Elusive Serial Killer_. She hesitated before clicking the link. The article was pretty basic, just a quick blurb on being "lost but never forgotten". Until she got to the end. The end was something she'd been dreading and therefore putting off putting much thought into it. It read "A service for this officer took place two weeks ago, with a small altar emerging at the corner of the block near FBI headquarters." followed by the name and location of the church at which the service was held as well as, strangely enough, where she was "buried". She clicked out of the article almost instantaneously and shoved her phone back in her purse.

She arrived at the airport about an hour before her flight was scheduled to depart. It was weird, feeling like such a normal citizen of America. She wouldn't be flying first class, much less in a company sponsored private jet, and the lines, she had to stand in the excruciatingly long lines just like, say, the family in front of her, apparently heading somewhere very tropical. When they called her up to security to check her ID, she felt like it was her first day back at the BAU in that, she had confidence, but she was so afraid just one tiny slip-up would destroy her future. She almost shook when she handed the woman her passport but tried to calm her nerves. The last thing she wanted was to look guilty this early in the game.

"What is your name?" asked the woman, almost robotically.

Emily hesitated for a fraction of a second before catching herself, "Abigail Sutton."

"Thank you Ms. Sutton," and with that, Emily walked through the gate.

The flight was only an hour, but it felt like an eternity. She breathed a sigh of relief when the flight attendant announced that they would be landing momentarily. As soon as the plane touched ground, Emily was ready to get off, but she knew she had to wait. The PA system crackled again and the flight attendant could be heard over the bustling noise of the passengers, "There will be a slight delay, but expect to be off in about 25 minutes." 25 minutes? Had she not waited long enough as it was?

The waiting wasn't even what bothered her the most, it was the fact the the the man who sat next to her—keep in mind, he hadn't spoken one word the whole trip—suddenly wanted to spark up a conversation. "So, what are you gonna be doing in New York? You live there or are you visiting?" He asked.

"Oh, I just recently transferred for work, so I'll be settling down there for a while," Emily answered, as truthfully as her situation would allow.

"Nice, let me guess, you're a creative type, maybe you work a job at a high end magazine?" He pondered.

Did he just profile her? And entirely incorrectly? "Actually no, I'll be working for the NYPD. What made you think I'd be in the art business?" she genuinely wondered. And the she realized, her dress. When she was getting ready at the hospital, she had several choices as to what she could wear. She had lingered over the black pantsuit she usually wore but forced herself to branch out. Instead, she chose a white sun dress paired with a jean jacket and brown, strappy sandals. Totally not her.

"Just, your outfit I guess. I'm not good at this stuff." He replied.

Finally, the plane began to unload. Emily's row was approaching, and she couldn't wait to get off. Before she could stand up, however, the guy asked her one last question, more of an afterthought, but something she hated answering because of the pit it left in her stomach every time. "I'm Richard, call me Rich. I missed your name?"

"E— Abigail, Abby for short," she stuttered as she replied. She needed to stop messing up.

Emily took another taxi to her new apartment in the lower West side of Manhattan. She couldn't wait to be home, to sleep, as if she hadn't slept enough for a lifetime in that hospital bed. She exited the taxi and looked down at her phone to remind herself the exact address and apartment number. She slipped the key into the lock and stepped through the door. There was a long hallway which led to a flight of stairs. She reluctantly dragged her suitcase up to the second floor and stopped at the top to catch her breath, something she never used to have to do. It was the first door on the right. She hastily unlocked that door and pushed inside. It was refreshing; she hadn't been in her own place since Doyle was after her. She felt at peace almost. She set down her few possessions and headed immediately to her bedroom where she crawled under three layers of blankets and fell asleep.


End file.
